Sunday, June 04, 2017

Fishing for Advice

Dear nonBaptist friends:  what kind of rosaries does one have to recite to do penanace for murder because the man I am married to is mixing catfish stinkbait in the kitchen and we have people coming in.

P. S. It will be an "accident"
Please react with an appropriately surprised  demeanor when you hear the news of his demise.  

Friday, August 12, 2016

I Have Seen My Future

I saw my future in line at Walgreens (no, not Walmart...Walgreens) this afternoon.

Little old stooped over white haired lady in line in front of us with her cart and recyclable shopping bag lays 3 items on the checkout counter:  rubbing alcohol, a container of salt, and Ben Gay. 

IN her cart was a case of Dos Equis.

Ben Gay and beer, people. 

Saturday, July 16, 2016

Wine Trail

Once again, under the hashtag of #OtherPeopleGoOnTripsIGoOnAdventures I have hit upon another one of those moments that makes MyPoolBoy so glad that he didn't marry someone boring.

We decided that we needed a bottle of our favorite winery's blackberry / blueberry wine.  Alas, it was before the winery was open (because apparently civilized people don't start going to the winery before noon -- or they are going to "sell no wine before its time" or some bullsh1t).

That's ok, I think.  The liquor store downtown opens at 10 and they have it.  (Because white trash folks WILL go to the liquor store before noon.)
Alas, they were sold out. '

What to do, what to do?

Soooooo, I went to the winery website and found locations where it could be procured, and I tried to keep a straight face when I instructed MyPoolBoy that he needed to drive out to the deer processor.



I sent him in because HE would not look out of place in the deer processor shop.  He opened the door and turned right back around and motioned for me to come in.  Because while he does not look out of place IN the deer processor shop, he does seem out of place BUYING WINE at the deer processor shop.  Y'all.  We bought wine at the deer processor.

I am happy to report that as a result of our efforts, we successfully obtained not just one but THREE bottles of wine.

And a bag of jerky.

Saturday, February 06, 2016

Old Hat

So. Yesterday we took our kids to the local museum (read: former school admin building full of random old crap that local families donated after they cleaned out their dead mother in laws storage building and couldn't even get Goodwill to take it - we have only donated Native American dance regalia, so definitely random but not technically old). 
In the back room alcove there was a pink cowboy hat with rhinestones or some other bling crap on it. My students immediately came to get me and asked me if my family had donated it. 

I replied to them that it was not mine. 

And then instructed them that we could make it mine, if a few of them were willing to be a self-sacrifice and create a diversion by knocking over something expensive-looking so that I could grab it and make a run for it. Told the rest of them to save themselves and meet me back at the classroom. 

No takers. I'm not so sure it was because they don't have a sense of teamwork but more because they do possess a healthy level of fear of whether I'm kidding or not. 

Monday, April 13, 2015


Y'all know that wine they have in stores that is a) not in a box and b) costs more than $6 a bottle. 
Yeah. I got my PoolBoy to buy some.  Yall.  That sh1t is good!

Saturday, April 11, 2015

Playing Chicken

Add to my already extensive list of useless talents: the ability to successfully thwart the Mullet County Post Office's attempts to erroneously deliver a mislabeled package of live chickens to our place of business. 
Yeah.  That happened. 

Monday, June 30, 2014

Snack Attack

DonnyCat just jumped up on the bed while MyPoolBoy and I were finishing off some pineapple and powdered sugar.  This in itself was not highly unusual since he is a moocher and takes it upon himself to get a taste of just about anything that I am cooking, serving, or eating.

So plop!  He's on the bed. Thud thud thud.  Lumbers across the bed because although I affectionately refer to him as my baby kitten,  the larda$$ weighs 17 1/2 pounds, and let's face it,  there is nothing dainty or delicate or even cat-like about a 17 1/2 pound cat's footsteps across a pillow-top mattress.  

Sniff one was of the bowl containing the powdered sugar.  He glared at me like I had set out a trap or poison of some sort. 

Moving along....

Sniff two was of the pineapple.   This elicited  a surprised look as of perhaps it WAS a trap or poison that I, myself should not have, either.  

He proceeded to deftly maneuver past the bowl and plate on MyPoolBoy's side. Because, at this point he had determined that this inedible crap in the snack bowls was somehow MyPoolBoy's error in judgment. Or that perhaps MyPoolBoy had set the trap for ME to eat the poisonous not-a-real-snack. 

So here he stands, his attention alternating from the plates, to My PoolBoy.  And then, the next response was him looking at me. I'll narrate (I often do for DonnyCat because his English is a little hard for common folks to understand sometimes) :  "Dude, what is THAT?  That's not a snack!" 
"Momma, did you EAT that?  Are you ok?"  

Then he proceeded up to put his face right in my face (I surmise to smell my breath to see if I had been drinking and perhaps that is why I fell for "the trap" ).